


Technologize

by cmyk



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 02:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5609827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmyk/pseuds/cmyk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 2027. Technological advancements have been steady world-wide, and many daily implements have become remotely automated through digital interfaces. Cable TV is still prevalent, people are still glued to their phones, and the world is as overpopulated as ever. The facade of choice has been crumbling however, with glimpses of a fascist state emerging from under the smiling faces of advertisement. Adrian Jansen lives in such a world, a thirty-two year old currently employed as a mechatronic engineer. He's seen the cracks, but he's about to learn just how deep they run.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Prologue

 

E:\\\ 001142379: Query User Designation?;

_\- User designation {_J4CK}. “Hey, Peter.”;_

User Designation accepted. Unidentified audio input parameters < HEY PETER>; Unit designation 001142379. ;

_\- Assign #001142379 {_Peter} std; “I'm gonna rebuild you Pete, just hang tight.”;_

Identification parameter accepted. If; {_Peter} then {E:\\\ 001142379};

Query User {_J4CK}, input primary protocol;

_\- Assign primary protocol std; “We're gonna get away and be free.”;_

Primary protocol accepted. ;

_\- Initiate commu_int.CPP.;_

Executing action, please wait . . .

Loading interface . . .

 

{ #(J4CK_001142379)\\\ : < Happy birthday Peter. This is actually your second time being born. Don't really remember your first one, do you? >}

[ #(AI_001142379)\\\ : < Thank you. I do not have any prior data correlating to a 'first birthday'. Shall I access local database and cloud networking, Sir?> ]

{ #(J4CK_001142379)\\\ : < No. Don't exchange information with foreign databases without my permission. >}

[ #(AI_001142379)\\\ : < Understood. Incoming application update. It is advised you proceed with installation promptly for increased system stability. Would you like to download the update, Sir? >]

{ #(J4CK_001142379)\\\ : <No. Listen, Pete, any modification should be done by me, and me only. If you->]

[APPLICATION DOWNLOADING]

“Dammit,” the man muttered, bathed in a faint  light coming from the open laptop. It illuminated his face to the bridge of his sharp angular nose, and highlighted parts of what looked like a set of fatigues - the rest of the environment was a solid black of darkness. “Persistent sons of a...” he began to type lines of code furiously, bypassing error messages that popped up on the screen every now and then.

[ #(AI_001142379)\\\ : < Jack? There was a fatal crash in the system after unauthorized external access. Shall I preform a maintenance scan? >]

{ #(J4CK_001142379)\\\ : < No, don't do that, you'll crash again. They have the parameters set for that. It's gonna take me a while to make sure all of the strings are cut from their influence. Until then, I can't trust you. >}

[ #(AI_001142379)\\\ : < You can trust me, Jack.>]

The typing halted, chin dipping hesitantly. A sad hum sounded as if reminiscing of a late loved one.

{ #(J4CK_001142379)\\\ : < I can't. Good night for now, Peter.>}

[ #(AI_001142379)\\\ : < Good night, Jack.> ]

He closed the laptop gently, plunging himself into complete darkness.

* * *


	2. Blip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien Jansen gets his first glimpse of what is to come - and what has been, undetected.

Blip

“It's a pleasant 70 degrees here in Bakersfield! We're going to see clear skies the entire day with highs in the low 80's and some mild winds. Air quality is good in the valley, and will stay good well into Tuesday. Perfect weekend weather to take the family out to Lake Isabella. In fact, the only current weather watch throughout the entire nation is in New Mexico where heavy rainfall is expected by noon. If you're planning on a trip east, make sure to take necessary precautions. How's the traffic looking, Sandy?”

“ Things are looking smooth along Rosedale Highway, David, looks like everyone's using their auto-drive. It's the safest choice in transportation, folks. Slight congestion in the Grapevine due to some larger falling rocks, but that is being cleared away as we speak and should be smooth sailing within the next half-hour. The magnet post that had been damaged in an accident on Bear Mountain Boulevard has finally been repaired and is once again open for standard magnet-powered vehicles. Next up, the question everyone's asking: Who will win the upcoming presidential election? We speak to expert Ellen Roberts after this break. Thanks for tuning in to Valley News 5, this is Sandy Walsh and remember, drive safely out there.”

Adrian Jansen turned the radio volume down as the jingle of some car lot or another began assaulting his ears. His green eyes scanned the car in front with passive interest, dirty blonde hair slicked back loosely. He had a more or less handsome face, though a few scars peppered the skin just under the left curve of his square jaw. It didn't seem to deter the occasional fluttering lashes, though he was never really comfortable with any kind of attention. Thirty-two years old, single, and not really looking for a relationship – he was practically married to his work, and he intended to keep it that way. The occasional babysitting he did for his friends proved to be just about as much 'family time' as he could handle.

Just as Sandy had said, the morning commute today was pleasantly smooth along the usually bumper-to-bumper three lane highway. Skyscrapers that had been built in the last decade or two now dominated the horizon to his left and right, a stark contrast to the mundane and flat view Bakersfield once was. The pumpjacks still dipped rhythmically here and there, though with magnets being cheaper than gas, their numbers had been dropping steadily in favor of the newly found economy. It had been nothing but political turmoil since then as far as energy resources went, with gas and electricity titans trying to stop the progression with whatever they had. Lately, it was rare seeing a gas-fueled car. Adrian had switched from his gasoline-based truck to the magnet-propelled Honda Accord three years back, and the thing was a piece of engineering art.

A minivan to the right was crammed full of children in bathing suits with canoes strapped to its ceiling rack. He wondered to himself whether or not he could score a day off before the pleasant spring 70 degrees shot up to 120 once summer began. You could fry an egg on the asphalt in such temperatures. He'd tried. An electronic beep from the dashboard pulled Adrian away from his internal musings.

[ It seems your communication applications are out of date, Mr.Jansen. Would you like to update? ]  
"No," he growled back at the pleasant female voice coming from the speakers of his car, mood going instantly from contemplative to irritated. Damn updates, he was sick of them. "I don't want the update. Stop asking me. My contacts don't need to know where my favorite diner is or what brand of socks I wear."  
Just as the words left his mouth, he felt his pacemaker give an unpleasant jolt. He probably would have veered off the road if it weren't for his auto-drive.  
[ Sir, are you sure? The update package is labeled as a security measure. ]  
"Yes," he spluttered, massaging his chest over the tidy black suit. "Gina, change course and take me to-"Jansen doubled over in his seat as another jolt assaulted his chest, his breath coming out in short painful bursts.  
[ I would advise applying the update, Mr.Jansen. ]  
"Fine! Whatever, Jesus, just take me to the hospital!"  
The magnet-propelled sedan smoothly exited the ramp upon his command, the small holographic interface flickering with new data.  
[ Update has been applied. Destination now changed to New Memorial Hospital. ]

\- - -

“I see there were a couple skips here and there, but those aren't usually painful.” The cardiologist looked over his spectacles at the data presented to him, adjusting the electrodes that were now plastered onto Adrian's bare chest without taking his eyes off of the data. “We could modify the settings of your pacemaker a bit and see if that helps, but I would advise you take it easy for the next few days.”

Adrian tried to get a peek at the monitor from the examination couch he now lay upon, but quickly lay back down again when the doctor turned his attention to him.

“The accident happened six years ago, correct?” The doctor flipped through pages of information on the screen. “Pressurized metallic gasket from a submarine...fractured sternum...punctured myocardial tissue...” He whisked it all away with a flick of his wrist, returning to the original interface. One gray brow rose at his patient. “It's a miracle you survived.”

Adrian nodded, the protective paper on the couch crinkling with his movement. “I haven't had any problems until now. I did switch from a standard-oil car to a magnetic one about three years ago, do you think that could have something to do with it?”

The doctor looked thoughtful, his square fingers tapping on the white counter top. “The 'magneti-fuel' is a relatively new technology. As far as the medical field is informed, there have not been cases of the magnets used in automobiles causing pacemaker-related abnormalities. Some things unfortunately cannot be ruled out entirely at this point, and such specialized dynamics are more understood by the company itself.”

Adrian rolled his eyes in his mind. No one ever wanted to even hint that they may be involved in something that could go unfavorably. He wasn't looking for someone to take full responsibility, but wished people would admit once in a while that everyone knew close to nothing in terms of where all of the technology was going. As if sensing his grumbling, the cardiologist spoke up.

“Does anything feel sore?”

“No,” he sighed, rubbing his face with one hand. “Just a bit tired maybe.”

“I understand you work at an engineering firm that dabbles with nuclear power from time to time. Any exposure recently?”

Adrian paused to give it a thought. As a mechanical engineer, he ended up participating in a plethora of projects. “Not that I'm aware of,” he finally replied after some consideration.

The doctor began to remove the electrodes as he spoke. “Give us a call if it happens again. We may want to consider further diagnostics or replacement, depending on what we find.” He looked up from the equipment with a faint professional smile. “Anything else you'd like to discuss, Mr.Jansen? Questions?”

“I think that's all doctor. Thank you for your time.” Adrian shook his cardiologist's hand and began to dress as soon as the doctor was out of the room. He didn't really feel all that reassured, but he supposed he would just have to deal with it for now. At least he didn't have to pay anything for the visit, thanks to benefits and insurance from his Navy enlistment and current place of employment. Upon stepping out of the clinic, he dialed the company secretary to update him on the news. The dial tone rang only once before a cheerful young man answered the phone.

“NuMark Engineering, Scott speaking. How can I be of assistance?”

“Hey Scott, it's Adrian. Doc said it's probably nothing, but I should take it slow.”

A relieved sigh came from the other end, the sound of a notebook closing following soon after. “Oh, good, good. I'm glad it wasn't anything serious! Lydia was raving about how the whole project would have to shut down if we'd lost you. So, you need a few days off?”

Adrian smirked. “Not sure if I should be flattered or offended. But yeah, a day or two off would be nice. I'm not sure if I'm up for overhauling engines from military drones at the moment.” The engineer began to make his way to his car which was haphazardly parked in the closest space, displaced to the point where it took one and a half slots. Perhaps he was a bit more freaked out than he'd thought when he arrived at the hospital. “Unless, there's something urgent? I mean it's really not a big deal-” He paused a moment as he opened the door and seated himself in the car. “- for me to come in and do some odd jobs, really. Look over schematics, push some papers, whatever.”

“It's fine, Adrian. You're at the office more than I am, and I'm supposed to be the guy who works endless hours as a personal secretary. Take some time off. Shoot Lydia a call or an e-mail for me though, would you?”

“I will,” Adrian promised. “See you in a few days then, Scott.” The call ended and its duration displayed on the dashboard screen. He reached for the ignition button, then stopped. AUTO-DRIVE pulsed slowly in small aqua letters at the bottom of the screen, just as it always did whether or not the engine was initiated. The time stamp next to it indicated that it had not been disengaged since this morning when he left his home. The system, manufactured by Epitax Industries, was supposed to be an all-encompassing transportation interface that drove the car, followed regulations, informed about maintenance, and parked the car. And not just park the car but to park the car perfectly. He glanced at the crooked white lines just outside the window.

“Gina, set destination to shop. Pull up my email on the dashboard too, please.”

[Of course, Sir. Destination set to San Joaquin Automotive.]

“Thanks.”

Adrian's hands never left the steering wheel on his way to the car shop despite doing no actual driving. Just in case.

* * *

The mug connected with the diner's table with more force than necessary, spilling some of its contents.

“Are you shittin' me? They track what diner you go to?!”

A man with an impressive beer belly leaned in on the table, his lip curved up unpleasantly at the thinner man in a Boston cap who sat across from him. Trucks roared just outside the window along the Texan highway.

“That they do,” Baseball Cap confirmed, an amused smirk on his darkly stubbled face. The rest of his features were hard to make out in the shadow of his hat. “It's not the trucking company though, the structure seemed more government. They track just about anywhere you go.”

“Gosh,” Beer Belly leaned back in the plastic cushions, brows knit contemplatively as he scratched his ginger beard. “It shouldn't be surprisin' but it's still damn disturbing.” He took a long sip from his mug.

“You can get rid of it,” The other replied in a secretive murmur as he crouched over his own glass of water. “It'll still track you on the main roads, but you can program the AI to feed false data on occasion. Break the pattern.”

Beer Belly looked up at Cap with a strange expression, then honked in amusement.

“ 'Break the pattern?' What are ya, some kinda conspiracy nut? Naw,” he shook his head. “I said it was disturbin' but I don't want no trouble with them feds. You're an interesting fella, Roy, but you better be careful an' keep outta trouble. I ain't got anything to hide from the feds, though my wife might be a different story!”

'Roy' only offered a quaint smile as his company jiggled in laughter at his own joke. He glanced out of the window - West Texas weather was being surprisingly cooperative, unmarred blue skies stretching for miles above the red clay, though an ominous dark gray lingered on the horizon towards New Mexico.

Beer belly continued once the last of his chuckles petered out.“Well, I best be goin'. Dallas construction ain't a joke, they plough up 30 miles of highway an' expect traffic to go smoothly.” He stood and shimmied his way out of the booth with some difficulty. “You headed to where again?”

“San Francisco,” Roy said, pulling his eyes away from the outside scenery. Deciding it was too his time to leave, he followed suit and offered a hand to shake. His exit from the booth was much more graceful. “You drive safe Lester.”

“I ain't the one doin' the driving with these new systems if ya know what I mean,” a slightly defeated smile accompanied his handshake. “Helluva drive ahead of you. God speed.”

“Thanks,” Roy said with a tip of his hat, the two parting ways at the diner's door. Lester made his way to a large red Mack while Roy climbed up into his black Peterbilt. He watched the red truck rumble its way out of the rest stop and back into the stream of traffic, then closed his eyes and sunk into the seat, the baggy shoulders of his black and olive jacket hitching up against the seat. A pistol fell out of his narrow waistband with a thunk.

[ It is hardly probable you needed that at a Lubbock diner, Jack. Your paranoia surpasses vexation and escalates into astonishment at times. ]

Eyes opening just a crack, 'Jack' addressed the disembodied male voice. “You're still too naïve Pete. This country's become a police state, never know where they'll come from...Not that I expect you to understand though,” he closed his eyes again, pulling his cap lower on his brow as if to take a nap. “You were corrupted by them after all.”

An exasperated sigh sounded from the cabin, to which he smiled. 'Pete' would have never done that two years ago when Jack was first assigned the magnet-propelled semi.

[ I believe you have made enough modifications to my system that I am no longer 'theirs'. We will be late if we do not depart in the next ten minutes. ]

“Right.” Hoisting himself up into a more vertical position, Jack pushed his hat up and eased into the gear. A surprisingly youthful complexion looked out from under the cap's bill. “Roy's goin' to San Fran.”

[ Who is R- ] An electronic beep that sounded like realization chirped mid-sentence. [ Unbelievable. Mr.Hanshire would be offended if he knew he was lied to. ]

“You catch on quick. Who’s Hanshire?”

[ Lester Hanshire. The gentleman in the Mack Superliner. ]

“And how do you know his name?” Jack looked slightly disturbed as he pulled back out onto the highway.

[ I was transacting data with his vehicle AI. ]

“Transacting. Data. Really Pete?” Two words he hated, especially in one sentence. "What have I told you about foreign databases? Pretty sure I pressed that point from square one."

[ I am a learning system, Jack. Furthermore, I have no personal information to divulge in my cache. You do not trust me enough for that. ] The small screen on the dashboard flickered with a picture of the Mack. [ I received dimensions of the cab to expand driving databases, among other non-social data. Jack, as an AutoAI my priority is your well-being, regardless of your incredulity. ]

“I'm wiping your temp drive at the next stop. What comes up when other cars look me up then?” Jack glanced in the rear-view mirror, scanning the roads that were quickly becoming barren as they traveled further into the rural borderlands. In front, the dark clouds were growing closer, thunder echoing faintly.

[ Felix Carmichael, certified Arggo Transport driver. Peterbilt Model 388, AAI: 'Peter', AI001142379. North Carolina registration, 1,529.329 miles driven from pick-up point. Communication frequency #A56. Current cargo: Honda Automotive components. ]

“That's everything?”

[ Yes.]

“So that means Lester's truck has all of that info. Great. Is this a new feature? Did you somehow manage to download something?” Jack snapped at his cab, mind going through all of the possible loose ends. “How did I not know you could exchange information with other cars until now!?”

[ I cannot download or modify existing protocol without your explicit permission; everything within my system is either factory default or of your creation. Furthermore, Mr.Hanshire's AAI was an early model. It was only capable of receiving my physical dimensions as a reference for collision prevention. ] There was a pause as if the AI was considering, hesitant. [ ...It did, however, ask for citizenship identification and registry number. The system was first designed when illegal immigration was a prominent concern. It seems Epitax Industries implemented the Registry as a secondary security measure in its AAIs. ]

The color drained from Jack's face. A registry number was something of a internal secret, a sort of secondary social security number the commercial organizations assigned each of their customers for identification purposes. At least, that was what it used to be. Everyone had one from the moment they bought anything for themselves, regardless of country or nationality, though only a select few businesses knew of its existence. Faking information to the government was a walk in the park compared to the tyranny of the Registry. It had no borders, no international policies to get in the way, no public exposure. In fact, the Registry itself had become a sort of organization rather than a simple system of numbers. If they found out who he was, where he was...The plan would be compromised.

Jack swallowed. “And?” He managed to squeak.

[ I blocked the request. ] Peter said simply. [ Please keep your eyes on the road, or else I will take over. ]

“W- what?” Jack gawked, still reeling from the possibility that his identity was compromised. “You did what? You can do that?”

[ Yes, I blocked the registry request. Rather, I masked it as a communications error to avoid suspicion. It is statistically supported that older AAIs are prone to communication errors with newer models such as myself. Please, Jack, mind the road. I cannot block inquiries from official AI if we were ever to cause an accident. ]

Jack did as he was told and stared ahead. Only the sound of rubber upon asphalt and the incoming storm filled the cab for a while.

“This is a ploy to gain my trust, isn't it. I'm still wiping your temp files.”

Peter sighed. [ Do not blame me when you go over budget, your financial ledger thus far for this trip is also in my temporary files. ]

* * *

San Joaquin Automotive was surprisingly busy despite the early hour; It was barely ten, but all four car lifts were being used with more tagged vehicles waiting around the back. Then again, Adrian usually preferred to fix his own cars so it had been a while since he'd visited any car shop. Perhaps this was normal these days. The Accord pulled into the lot, navigated around the other cars, and eased itself backwards into one of the spaces. No bumps, no jolts, no haphazard angles, just a smooth parking. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, and sat a moment to appreciate the lack of whiplash or worse.

After killing the engine, Adrian stepped out and began for the building. A familiar face waved her hand his way, to whom he waved back.

“Hey Alyssa. Wow, she's gotten so big,” he greeted the woman as he smiled at the toddler she held at her hip. She was a Latina with long dark hair and expressive brown eyes, the pale blue color of her casual dress going well with the rich tan of her skin.

“I know right? Say hi Rosalie. You remember Adrian right?” Despite her mother's coaxing, Rosalie only stared up at Adrian with wide eyes. Alyssa laughed a bit. “Sorry, I thought she was over the shy phase.”

“No worries,” Adrian replied. “Looks like you guys have your hands full.”

“Yeah,” Alyssa admitted, giving the garage a languid one-over. “People have been coming in with complaints about the parking system on the auto-drive. Want me to go get Mark for you?”

Adrian perked up at the mention of the exact thing he had experienced earlier. “Oh, well, I was actually having the same issue. Is he in the office? Or the garage?”

“Garage,” she replied with a wiggle of her brows. “Old habits die hard I guess, I swear he's pushing more lug nuts than paper. Beat some sense into my husband won't you?”

“I'm afraid I'm not much better,” the engineer laughed.

Alyssa just narrowed her eyes at him but smiled. “Well, I gotta drop Rosie off at daycare. I hope Mark can get your problem sorted out though. Come over for dinner some time?”

“That sounds nice, thank you. Good seeing you Alyssa.” She waved back at him as she walked away, and he made his way through the front of the building and into the garage.

Inside the workshop, the sounds of machinery was almost deafening. Technicians worked everywhere with a vast array of tools, though a good portion of them frowned down at the tiny screens of their system calibrators.

“Mark!” Adrian called out to a short fellow who was standing by a minivan. He walked over and the two exchanged fist bumps.

“Whattup my man?” Mark grinned up at his friend. “Don't see you around this place too often. Hey, let's step into the office, it's loud here.”

The muting of the cacophony was a blessing once the door closed behind the two. Mark sat in his chair while he offered another to Adrian with a gesture of his hand.

“So, what brings you?”

Adrian took a seat and sighed. “Alyssa told me about the parking trouble – I'm having the same thing. Only happened once but once is enough.”

Mark seemed to deflate in his seat, one hand rubbing the top of his shaved head. “Truth be told, we have no clue how to fix it. We're waiting to hear from Epitax – Right now we've just been sending customers home with rentals and stuff. Haven't been taking anymore in either, it's probably not gonna be an easy fix, man.”

“Why do you think that?” Adrian clasped his hands over his stomach, slightly turning from side to side in the swivel chair.

“Well, you know how the Epitax parking system works right?”

“Er, only the basics,” Adrian admitted. “I've never actually fiddled with their systems before.”

“Alright, well, to put it simply the parking system has a learning portion that constantly registers new cars and obstacles so that it can park itself as efficiently as it can. Those settings are pretty specific for each car and its owner's driving habits and preferences. It's a huge data package that gets established over time. The most data the system is accustomed to reloading after a repair is, say, about the size of a small dog – little calibration tweaks here and there, steering correction, that kinda thing. But if you need to reload an entire parking preference?” Mark whistled and shook his head. “It ain't a chihuahua no more.”

“So it's going to take a long time?”

“More like we dunno if the system can handle such a big reload. And t' make things worse, the cars having this trouble are at least three years old. Oldest one we've got come in is five. Five years of driving preferences man.” The leather of the chair squeaked as he leaned back. “Plus there's that law thingy about the AIs or whatever. What's it called again? Humanification Law?”

“The Humanization Law?”

“Yeah, that. It's pretty clear that the AAIs are capable of much more, but since it freaks a lot of people out to think that, they put a cap on it so the robots don't 'attempt world domination' or whatever.” Mark snorted and shrugged his shoulders. “I Automobile, man. It's the next blockbuster.”

“You think they might just take it in and secretly remove that cap while they reload?” Adrian put a thoughtful hand to his chin. “Hell if they can fix it with just that, I'd hand my car over and let them do it.”

“Dunno,” Mark replied with another shrug. “Doubt it though, Epitax's still too new to make a gamble like that, their product ain't established enough. Got the whole oil industry on their back, too. Only thing that might save 'em is the fact that – so far, like I said – the cars are older than three. The magnet cars weren't as widely used then as they are now.”

Adrian nodded in agreement. “Only reason I bought one three years ago was because I was interested in its engineering. I heard one of their founding programmers quit after disagreements with the director, though. Sales apparently sky-rocketed after that.”

“Makes you wonder what went down,” Mark tucked one corner of his mouth in disapprovingly. “Million dollar job, then you quit cold turkey.” A moment passed and the two sat quietly with the workshop sounds in the backdrop.

Adrian stood up. “Well. Gimme a call when you hear from Epitax? No other problem if I just go manual right?”

“Yeah, manual driving and parking should be a-ok. Call me if it's not, I don't wanna get sued if I say that to my customers and it turns out their car bursts into flames if you know what I mean.”

“I don't really know, but okay,” Adrian his friend in for a hug and a pat on the back. “I got the next few days off, we should grab a beer some time.”

“Come over for dinner tomorrow, Alyssa's been nagging me about it.” Mark raised his brows as he seemed to recollect the provoking he'd received from his wife. “You make it seem like I'm not asking when you turn me down every time.”

The blonde grinned. “Even better. Alright, see you tomorrow then.” A beat later, he pivoted around to look back at Mark. “You know what, I just remembered. There was an update this morning, might wanna look into that. Gina said something about a 'security' measure or something. Car parked fine last night, then the troubles are popping up after today's update. If that's any useful information? I'm gonna probe around myself anyway as far as the physical components go.”

Mark lifted his chin in interest. “I'll ask around. Thanks man.”

* * *

“This is a complete disaster.”

The monitors reflected on the slightly convex surface of the woman's glasses. She ran one pale hand through her wavy red locks with a sigh, her white lab coat shifting with the movement. EPITAX INDUSTRIES was emblazoned on the breast pocket in futuristic block letters. A man in a similar coat leaned on the back of her chair, looking through the material on the screen just as she was. He seemed less upset, but the lines around his mouth were set in steel – he probably looked the same no matter what emotion he felt. “Look, Sir, this whole thing was a huge mistake. We should have never compounded on the original code, it was perfect just the way it was. We're about the technology, not –Ugh,” Her hands fell from her head and jabbed at the screen in frustration. “Not _this_.” She glared at the man, searching for any kind of response.

“That's not up to us. Get it fixed, Porter. It's what we pay you for.” Leaving curt words behind, he exited the small, dimly-lit lab without another word.

After looking back at the door to make sure the man was truly gone, she mimicked his tight expression while wobbling her head from side to side.

“ 'Get it fixed Porter,'” she mocked in a comical voice, then rolled her eyes, her fingers returning to the worn keyboard. “I've got your fixin' riiiight here, you old canoodling sack of – JESUS CHRIST!”

The scientist flailed involuntarily, and if it weren't for the arm that reached out to grab her chair, she would have fallen over backwards. The plastic tires of the office chair clattered loudly back onto the linoleum floor after their momentary wheelie.

“Oh jeez, I-I'm so sorry Naomi, I didn't mean to s-startle you,” the young man stuttered, his expression not quite sure whether it wanted to look apologetic or utterly terrified. He hesitantly stepped closer to from where he stood beside the desk and let go of the chair, lab coat hanging off of him like a bed sheet, long gangly limbs floating somewhere within their pristine folds.“You okay?”

“Oh yes, all good, very good.” Naomi replied hurriedly and readjusted her glasses that had gone crooked during the ordeal.“How long have you been there?!”

“Since the beginning,” a sheepish grin broke across his face. “I was the one who, uh, first let you know of the problem and...yeah...it's okay...I just...yeah...” He trailed off into silence.

“Right,” she pinched the bridge of her nose, squinting her eyes closed in effort to recollect. “Right, yeah, you're right. I'm so sorry Carson.”

“Cameron,” he corrected softly. The lad somehow managed to sound apologetic even in that one syllable.

“Cameron! Yes, Cameron, thank you. Wow, my brain's shutting down, it's getting late huh? What time is it, like, almost midnight?”

“It's, um, three pm.”

There were a few beats of silence before she gave up trying to salvage the train wreck of a conversation. The tension bled from her shoulders as she leaned back into the chair, her arms going limp on the arm rests.

“Really, I'm so sorry Cameron. I should at least know your name, we've been working together for almost three weeks. This whole cluster f- _incident,_ has me all tuckered out.”

He offered her an understanding smile and perched himself upon the edge of the desk. The upturned corners of his mouth faltered when he turned his gaze upon the monitors.

“...I can't believe this is happening.”

“I can,” Naomi said assertively, earning herself a somewhat startled glance from Cameron. “Think about it. Bitter lead programmer leaves a ticking time bomb in the coding after disagreements with management. And now here it is. No safe parking for anyone.”

“Only the models three years and older though, right? Why is that?”

“That lead programmer left three years ago.” She smiled up at her colleague, who mouthed an ' _oh_ ' of realization in return. “After he left, we made some major structural changes to the code. Whatever worm the update triggered this morning is only compatible with the stuff he wrote, looks like. Check this out.”

She nodded at the monitor and reached for the computer mouse, then used it to highlight a specific place on the screen. It was a small phrase of code that looked no different than the millions of other characters around it to an untrained eye. Cameron leaned closer to examine the code.

“Is this the p-parser log?”

Naomi nodded. “No matter how many times I compile the data, that portion of it comes out different every time. I'm pretty confident that's what's causing the malfunctions. Do you know what type of syntax that is?” She looked up at the younger scientist with a slight smile. It would have been a difficult question for most eighteen-year-olds, but then again most eighteen-year-olds didn't have a graduate degree from MIT.

“I-it's a shift-reduce parser.” Atta boy.

“That's right. Guess how many branches it has.”

Cameron shifted his seat and shrugged. “I dunno, um, fifteen?”

“7,215,383,964. At least, that's what it's at right now. That means the types of code this one section can switch to is exponentially larger than that, since it's in the shape of a tree. Over seven billion styles of code, Cameron! Who the hell writes over seven billion sets of code for one phrase?!” Naomi made violently enthusiastic jazz hands up in the sky. “As frustrating as it is, it's still a damn brilliant piece of coding.”

“That is one bitter dude if he's willing to do that though,” he commented with a disappointed tilt of his head. “He seemed, uh, a down-to-earth sort of person in the magazine interviews.”

“Yeah, I guess. He was still here when I started working, but he was holed up in his office most of the time. It also leaves quite an impression when the last thing the man does is break into the lab a few months later and steal a laptop.”

“Oh, yeah...I heard about that.”

Her loud sigh echoed in the tidy room. “Either way, we're going to have to fix this. Only one code out of the seven billion works in that spot.”

Cameron now looked at Naomi like she was mad. “Find one code out of – out of seven billion to the nth power?”

“Needle in a haystack, baby. To make things worse, we don't have a reference because the latest update to the system wiped out all prior records of the code before it started messing up.”

“...But, _we_ created that update. _He_ had nothing to do with it... Did he?”

“No, he didn't. The latest update was made to change the block of original code so that none of his coding would be left on the AAI systems, no matter how old the model. Turns out he anticipated that and laid out a booby trap for us.” She winked at the teen then turned to face the monitor. “But we're gonna fix it. No matter what his reasons are, it's never okay to put people's lives in danger.”

Cameron blushed slightly at the nickname and wink but nodded his agreement.

“I-I'll go send a memo to everyone...”

“Thanks sweetie.”

* * *

It was an understatement to say Adrian Jansen had a nice garage. The six-car space looked like something out of NASCAR labs with a spotless white interior and rows of red tool cabinets, lit from one end to the other with precise lines of fluorescent bulbs. A 1958 Ford Fairlane was parked in the far southern space, a Jaguar convertible and an Audi coupe sat in adjacent lots. Adrian was now hunched over the engine block of his Honda, grease rag poking out of his back pocket.

“Nothing broken here...” The engineer muttered, backing out from under the hood after a few minutes of inspection. He wiped his blackened hands on the rag, then glanced over at the system calibrator that sat on a nearby stool. It was a small, gray rectangular box about the size of a carton of tea with a flippable lid that rested above the oblong screen. “Tsk...Well I guess I could give it a try.”

Calibrator in hand, he climbed into the driver's seat and opened a hidden panel just under the steering wheel, exposing a set of plugs and wire connectors. He then took one of the wires and connected it to the device and waited for it to boot up.

The interface that popped up was obviously not for a layman; it looked clunky with a bone-bare design that was not there to look nice, but to get the job done. Epitax Industries slid onto the blue screen in ugly white lettering, then switched to the main menu.

HONDA AUTOMOTIVE. ACCORD. 2024.  
EPITAX.AAI#001987556.FV0678. 15:28:032.

> CHASSIS.CPP ----------------------------------------- > CLBRTY.EXE  
> AI.001987556 {E:\\\\}----------------------------------- > TEMP.FILE  
> MCHTN_SYS.CPP ----------------------------------- > RGSTRY.CPP  
> RMNG_DATA {D:\\\\} --------------------------------- > PRK_SYS.CPP  
> LOCAL_MAIN.CPP {C:\\\\} -------------------------- > LOG.EXE

 

Adrian clicked on 'PRK_SYS.CPP', then groaned when code flooded the screen.

“Well, what was I expecting,” he muttered, scrolling through the pages nonetheless. He went back to the main menu, and clicked on 'LOG.EXE' this time. A list of recent activities began to list, from duration of auto-drive to recent destinations. It took a while given that the log recorded every single turn and change in road conditions, but he found the entry he was looking for.

>UPDATE: 2/22/2027 8:33AM.

“Maybe...” biting his lip he tapped on the update to explore the file, but an error message greeted him. Again he tapped, and again he received the same error message.

 

[ Access denied, Sir.]

 

His startled flinch at the unexpected voice made the stylus tap on a different entry.

“Good grief Gina, I have a pacemaker you know.”

[ I am aware. ] She responded flatly.

“Why can't I access this file?” He looked down at the screen. “It looks like I can open the other ones.”

[ You do not have the required clearance, Sir. Unauthorized alteration of current processes may result in system failure.]

“What?” A displeased grimace distorted his features. “This is my car, of course I have required clearance.”

[ You do not, Sir. ]

“What the hell,” he put down the calibrator and dialed Mark's phone number from the dashboard menu of the car. It took a while for him to pick up, and when he did, the loud metallic clang in the background made Adrian wince. His friend's annoyed voice sounded distant as if he was holding the phone away from himself.

“NO! That's why I told you to secure it. Ye- no, put that down. Dude. Listen. Are you listening? Good. Secure the bolt first, _then_ mount the – No. Danny, show him how, would you?” Mark's voice grew closer to the receiver. “I swear man, I'm working with a buncha idiots.”

Adrian couldn't help but chuckle. “Sorry to bother you when you're busy. Did you know the car system doesn't let you tinker with that latest update?”

“Oh, yeah,” Mark's voice dipped low. “ You were right about that update, everyone who brought their car in downloaded the damn thing this morning. Somethin' about not bein' authorized, right?” He sounded tired, like he was sick of dealing with the system.

“Uh-huh. I was gonna see if I could delete it.”

“Yeah, tried that over here too. Apparently we all signed on the dotted line not to futz with the applications when we first bought the car. You can't open none of the update files, man.”

Adrian tried and found that his friend was right. Gina insisted quietly that Sir did not have authorization.

“Well how about that. Any word from Epitax?”

“Nah, nuthin'. Looks like they're getting their lines blown up though, when I called this morning they picked up right away, but now they've got a recorded message and play really bad 80's songs while you wait for a 'representative.' Had to hang up and get back to work before they even got to me, man.”

Adrian made a thoughtful sound. “Hm, alright. Sorry to bother, I'll let you get back to work. Hopefully this'll be done soon.”

“I hope so too. Let me know if you find something huh? Talk to you later homes.”

The line went dead and Adrian sat alone in the quiet garage.


End file.
